What Money Can't Buy (temporary title)

August 2022

      Cicadas flick their wings together in the trees above my head, producing a melody that rustles the leaves of the trees and surrounds me. The gentle glow of the lamps warms me as I take a seat on the wooden bench below them. 

      The fresh breeze urges my eyelids to flutter shut as it tickles my face, and I don’t resist.

~

      Hot breath fans my face, and I roll over, eyelids squeezing together until my eyelashes brush. 

      “What…” I mumble, rubbing my face.

      A hand grabs my wrists and the sound of alarm fills my head, drowning out the song of the cicadas as my half-opened eyes try to get adjusted to the dimness. All I can remember is stargazing, reading on the bench, the light wind…

      An icy object presses into the skin under my jawline and I freeze, my heart racing in my ears. I let out a gasp as warm, viscous liquid trickles under the collar of my blouse. It ignites a fiery trail that glides down my neck, seeping into the material of my clothes.

      The black gloved hand hesitantly drops my wrists, and the person withdraws the icy metal from my jaw. Papers flutter somewhere next to me as noisy footsteps retreat into the distance. Head throbbing, I lean back, away from the now harsh lamplight. 

      The silence causes me to wonder if I hallucinated everything, yet liquid still drips, pooling into the crevices of my neck. There is an object on the ground near the bench. The glossy cover immediately registers. It’s a magazine.

     The cover features a recent picture of me, in this copy, though, my face has been stabbed repeatedly, leaving a hole through the entire newsletter. I glance around one more time just to confirm I’m alone, I bend over to pick up the magazine, and tiny pieces of paper flutter down to the floor.

      Chills slither up my spine. 

      Every celebrity knows they have their haters and their superfans, but I don’t think anybody expects the haters to go this far. My mom will freak out when she sees this, and even more when she sees the cut and the blood trickling down my neck. 

      My legs tremble from under me as I try to collect myself and do the box breathing exercises I’ve seen online. When I arrive home, I’ll face something that’s even scarier: the questions my parents will have.

~

      “What the hell were you thinking, Lucia? You go out at night and expect to return unharmed? You’re unbelievable.” Mom scoffs and turns to my dad, who is drumming his fingers against our glass coffee table. He jumps at the sound of Mom clearing her throat, and hastily leans forward, mouth drawn into a flat line.

      “We can’t have you getting hurt, Luce,” he lectures me, concern visible in his hazel eyes. “You’re going to have to stay home for a few days until everything settles down. Maybe you could consider the bodyguard like your mom and I have been begging you to?”

      I gnaw on my bottom lip, choosing my next words carefully as I pull the folded magazine out of my cardigan’s pocket. “Listen, there’s something else too…” 

      Mom’s eyes widen and she practically snatches the magazine out of my hands. Silence fills our mansion as the maids and chefs peek their heads into the living room to check out the commotion.

      “Oh…” she gasps, turning pale, and she hands the magazine to my father quickly before collapsing onto our white fainting couch. Her eyes turn glassy and I turn to my father, guilt coursing through my veins. “Jacob, do you see that? Oh my…”

      Dad slams the magazine on the table, which trembles under his tight fist. “Lucia, you’re getting a bodyguard.” he announces, and avoids my shocked glare, his jaw clenched. “That is final. We won’t have you feeling scared to go outside because stupid people are jealous.”

      I turn to my mother, who is still in the same spot, her shoulders hunched over, and she nods slowly as she lets out a shaky breath.

      “We have to keep you safe.”

~

November 2022

      The air conditioner blares in my ears as I fix the covers of my canopy bed for the fourth time.

      Treyton hums and I whip around to face him, my jaw twitching. When he sees my face, his smirk only grows in size. 

      “You enjoy seeing me go insane, don’t you?” I ask, aggressively fluffing one of my pillows before launching it right at his face.

      Instead of dodging it though, he lets it hit him and I roll my eyes at his dramatics when he stumbles. I fall down into my bed, messing it up once more but at this point it doesn’t even matter.

      Too much of everything has gotten to me. Too much staying at home, too much seeing the same people over and over.

      My bodyguard sighs and stands up from my bedroom bench, then walks around to sit next to me, his fingers intertwined with mine like ivy around a gate. “Listen, this is all for your own good. I know it’s annoying, but this is all to keep you safe and alive, so you have to suck it up. You have fans out there who are eagerly waiting for your return, and I’m sure they don’t want parts of you missing when you get back.”

      “I hate it when you’re right.” I cross my arms and try to glare at him.

      “Oh, believe me, I can tell. Happens a lot.”

      “Smartass. I’m going to get a snack, so are you going to come with me to protect me from the horrors of the pantry?”

      Treyton scoffs and opens the door for me as we both step into the hallway. “That’s very offensive, okay. I’m simply doing my job of making sure you aren’t cut into pieces.”

      My slippers glide against the polished stone and I make my way down the bifurcated stairs, the coolness of the railing grounding me and my thoughts. “Why can’t we just catch the stalker and pay them off? I’m sure their budget isn’t high at all.”

      Treyton levels me with an annoyed expression and says, “If it’s so easy to catch the stalker, why don’t you try it yourself? It’s not like your parents hired me for anything, huh?”

      I chew on the inside of my bottom lip as he takes the lead instead of walking by my side like usual.

      Once we step into the kitchen I hoist myself up onto the counter and watch as Treyton opens the door to our pantry. He looks around and wrinkles his nose at the options we have, then slams the door of the pantry behind him. I laugh at his reaction. 

      “Hey, listen, I’m sorry, okay? I know it’s not easy to take care of me, especially if you’re with me all the time.”

      He coughs in response and mutters, “Understatement of the century,”

      I glare at him. “Just because I’m apologizing and insulting myself doesn’t mean you can, too.”

      Treyton walks around the counter I’m sitting on and I turn to face him, when he suddenly looks down and freezes. The blood rushes from his face, turning it a milky shade of white. He inhales sharply and looks around before pushing himself in front of me, blocking my view of whatever horrendous thing he’d seen.

      My heart races, sensing his panic, and a cold shiver travels down my spine. I’d never seen him like this before.

      “Are you okay?”

      “We need to get you out of here. Right now.”

      I run around to where he was standing, and Treyton tries to grab my waist to pull me back but I slip out of his grasp. 

      Scarlet forms a pool around a maid’s limp body, staining pale skin, as glassy eyes stare into mine from where she lies on the floor. The girl’s mouth is slightly parted as though she had tried to whisper one final plea before she died. Her brown hair, once in a tidy bun, is tangled and matted with dried blood. Her scalp is peeled back in patches, revealing the heavily fractured bone of her skull. Its once ivory surface is painted with drying flakes of red.

      A few feet to the right of her body is a piece of paper stained with blood splatters and I hesitate before reaching for it. As I do, a sharp metallic stench burns my nostrils, and I gag, bile thickening at the base of my throat

      Another death threat.

      I jerk backwards, into Treyton’s waiting embrace. He spins me around, away from the corpse that’s already starting to stink up the kitchen. He studies my face, gently brushing his knuckles against my damp cheeks. Tears stream down my face, and I shove at his chest angrily, the image of the girl’s lifeless body already haunting me. I can see her wide, dead eyes every time I shut my own and I can’t help the words that spill out of my mouth.

      “I’ve officially done it. I’ve done it, Trey. I can’t be responsible for the death of someone else. I just can’t. God, I can’t be the reason this girl doesn’t go home to her family. I’m done with this.” I sob, launching my fist into the wall. My knuckles burn and I hiss at the harsh contact, cradling my hand. “I’m pathetic.”

      “No, you’re not. We couldn’t have prevented this, Lucia. All you can do now is make sure she gets the proper burial. It’s the least she deserves.”

      “What?” I screech, slowly turning from the wall to face Treyton. “A girl just died because of someone who should’ve honestly gotten me instead and all you can think about is her burial? Listen to yourself! She shouldn’t have died in the first place!”

      “If I could turn back time to make all the people in my life who’ve died come back to life, I would, okay?” - Treyton’s jaw clenches and he grinds his teeth together - “But that’s not how the world works. So suck it up and keep living, princess. You’re not going to have any fun in life if every time someone dies you react like this.”

      The kitchen lights flicker on and I jump in surprise when I see my parents running over to us. My mom rushes over to me and Treyton, pushing him away to hold me. 

      “Honey, what’s going on?” my mom asks, confusion and panic plain in her voice, her hands on my shoulders. Then as her head turns away from me and she studies the maid’s body, her hands dig into my collarbone. 

      “Sir,” - Treyton turns to my dad and addresses him - “we need to get everyone out of here immediately.”

      “I-I don’t understand. How could they have gotten inside?” Mom questions, backing away from me and holding her head in her hands.

      Instead of answering my mother - since we all know she’ll continue to panic even if we do - Dad faces my bodyguard. “I agree. We need to find somewhere that won’t attract attention and keep all of the maids, waiters and chefs safe.”

      “Excuse me for a second, I need some air.” I murmur, trying to slip past everyone crowded in the kitchen. Nobody pays me any mind as I walk away.

      Sobs coming from the maid’s quarters instantly catch my attention, and I walk towards  the sound of the noise.

      A woman dressed in one of the uniforms is sitting on the couch and I make my way over to her, avoiding her eyes. It doesn’t seem like she notices me anyway, until she speaks.

      “She was my sister. I didn’t expect anyone to die doing this job, but here we are.” The woman sobs, her body shaking as I pull her into an embrace.

      “I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t expect this would happen either. I don’t think anybody did.”

      “It’s not your fault,” the woman reassures me, grabbing my hands with hers.

      I start to shake my head slowly, but out of the corner of my eye I catch movement near the entrance of the maid’s quarters. 

      “If you’ll excuse me,” the maid says and walks away.

      “You can come out, I know you’re there,”

      Treyton sighs, walks over to me, and takes a seat. “I just want to check if you’re okay. Is that a crime?”

      “I’m not used to this, Trey. I’m not used to problems like these. All anybody wants is more money. I can’t give this person more money if I don’t even know who they are. And they don’t seem to want more money anyway. They could’ve just threatened me for money, but they didn’t.”

      “I know, Lucia.”

      “Just know I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. You’re literally my best friend, which is depressing, but whatever.”

      “Luce, I…” Trey takes a deep breath, avoiding my stare, “I know this is a, frankly, horrible time to bring this up…”

      My gaze roams over his face as he continues, heart pounding in my ears when his warm hands envelop mine. We’ve always made physical contact, but never like this. His warm brown eyes connect with mine and my eyes drop to the wood floor.

      A loud scream comes from the kitchen, and both Trey and I jump apart, and blood rushes from my face when I remember my parents. But before I can run towards the sound, he grabs my arm and gives me a stern look, his eyebrows pulled together. 

      “I swear, Lucia, if you don’t stay right here I’m going to let them have you.”

      “Can you go already?” I shoo him in the direction of the kitchen, shoulders shaking.

      Before I can wallow in guilt, I hear quick footsteps and freeze as a tall shadow creeps up from behind me. 

      I can’t move. Shit, I can’t move. Please. 

      A wheezy laugh erupts from the person behind me, and they bend down to whisper in my ear. 

      “It’s so nice to see you again,” a woman’s voice coos.

      Bile burns my throat as it rises at the sound of her enjoying my suffering. More than anything, it pisses me off. But my feet are still glued to the floor. 

      Before I can even turn, my face is smothered by the woman’s sleeve and I regain control of my limbs, kicking and twisting around in desperation. I manage to break away but still, the woman is faster, and once again cold metal pierces my still healing scab. Her message is clear, if I try to escape, I’m dead. 

      Please, Trey, walk through the door. I’m sorry for everything.

      I grimace in pain as her fist slams into the side of my head, and everything goes black.